


Gross

by milkwaste



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, I Just Want To Go To Bed, M/M, Menstruation, Trans Male Character, i was venting when I wrote this I'm probably going to be so ashamed when I post it, this is literal shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkwaste/pseuds/milkwaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bakura feels like shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gross

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% unedititied it's 3 am and I wrote it to vent because I feel fucking disgusting. I shouldn't even post it, really. I literally started writing it an hour ago and now it's done and don't remember anything I wrote so that's probably a bad sign.

He felt gross. That was the only way he could describe it. The body was his own, looking, for all intents and purposes, exactly as it had 3000 years ago. But that doesn't mean he felt all that comfortable in it.

When he'd had Ryou construct the model for the memory world, extra detail had gone into the Thief King to make him appear large and intimidating, with well built muscles and a flat chest. In comparison, the real thing was rather disappointing.

For one thing, he wasn't all that tall. He reached 5’7 on a good day. Ryou was taller than him, even. For another thing, he wasn't built all that muscularly. Food had been difficult to come by in ancient Egypt, and eating hadn't been his biggest priority. He ate what he need to survive. Now, he had food readily available, but instead of looking larger and more intimidating, his body just looked softer and rounder. Granted he'd always had at least some degree of muscle, back then and now, but it wasn't the same. 

On top of that, there was the matter of what was between his legs. He didn't think about it all that often before. It wasn't revenge, and the lack of proper nutrition meant he didn't bleed on a regular basis. It never really was a concern. He knew enough to know he was a man, regardless, and left it at that. 

Now though, he wasn't the king of thieves, and he couldn't get revenge on a dead man. Because the pharaoh had gone on peacefully to the afterlife while Bakura had been spat back out by the gods and told to live a real life. So he lived in an apartment with Ryou and Marik and ate three meals a day. He slept in a soft bed and for a week every month he experienced crippling cramps that felt like they were radiating throughout his whole body while it purged out his fucking uterus. He didn't need the damn thing, it's not like he was planning on popping out dozens of babies, and the whole situation pissed him off. 

Now, he was wide awake, at the asscrack of dawn, blood sticky between thick tan thighs. His tits felt sore, heavy and useless on his chest. He didn't understand why on top everything else, they had to get sore on his period. He was sure there would be some bullshitty science reason if he looked it up, but he didn't really care. His uterus wasn't in his chest so he didn't see much of an excuse. 

He'd woken up because he'd dreamt that he was being stabbed, but it turned out to just be cramps. He wanted to vomit, but couldn't bear to move to the toilet. He could only hope he didn't hurl all over Ryou or Marik where they laid next to him. 

He sat up, cursing as Marik stirred to his right. Ryou was a heavy enough sleeper that he would stay firmly curled up on Bakura’s left side until he was good and ready to wake up, but Marik was a much lighter sleeper. He was frequently startled awake by nightmares, and even when he wasn't, he usually had trouble relaxing enough to fall into a proper deep sleep. 

“‘Kura?” the blonde muttered sleepily, blinking up at Bakura with concerned violent eyes.

“Don't worry about it, go back to sleep. Just lemme up,” Bakura replied as he shimmied off the bed and made his way towards the bathroom, grabbing a clean pair of underwear and pajama pants from a pile on the dresser as he went.

His favorite pair of boxers was as good as ruined, and while his pants were in slightly better shape, they would most likely have permanent stains on them as well. He simply threw them in a pile on the floor to clean up later and wiped himself off, found a pad, and put on the clean pants and underwear. 

He left the bathroom after taking a handful ibuprofen and meandered to the couch in the living room. No sense in waking up Marik again. 

He'd left his cigarettes on the coffee table last night, and was thankful now, because it meant he could have one before he went back to sleep. 

He was almost to down to the filter when he heard quiet footsteps walking towards him. 

“What are you doing out here?” Marik asked as he plopped himself down next to Bakura and lit his own cigarette. 

“Didn't want to disturb you when I came back,” Bakura muttered. He had intended just to sleep on the couch for the rest of the night, and probably most of tomorrow. 

“It's fine. I was having nightmares anyway,” Marik lied. 

It was probably true that he didn't mind being woken up, but the part about the nightmares was a lie. Marik was never this calm when he had been having nightmares. It wasn't Bakura’s place to say anything, though. Marik wasn't going to let him accept responsibility, and he didn't particularly want to anyway.

“Okay fine, I wasn't but I was gonna wake up anyway. I had to pee.”

Bakura felt the corner of his lips quirk up slightly.

“I was gonna let you have that one, actually. I'm not in the mood to argue.”

Marik fell backwards into the couch cushions dramatically in a mock faint.

“The great Bakura not in the mood to argue? Truly the world has come to an end,” he said a little bit too loudly for 4:43 in the morning, and Bakura shushed him gently. 

“I feel kind of like shit, that's all,” he sighed. “I took twice the recommended dose of ibuprofen that should kick in at some point” 

Marik wrinkled his nose a little. Bakura thought it was cute, the way his face scrunched up when he did that, but he wasn't about to say so. 

“You shouldn't do that. It'll make you sick. And no I don't care if ‘the prescription dose is four and so even if the bottle says not to take more than two sometimes four is okay.’ You do it every time. I put your clothes in the laundry basket though. The ones you left on the floor. I sprayed them with that stain stuff so it should come out,” Marik said, leaning his head against Bakura’s shoulder. 

Bakura realized then how tired he was, and laid down on the couch. Marik laid almost on top of him, twining their legs together and grabbing Bakura’s hand.

Bakura still felt like shit, but Marik was a comforting presence, and they fell asleep like that.

Ryou found them like that in the morning and joined his two boyfriends on the large overstuffed couch, but not before taking pictures. Maybe because they were cute, maybe for blackmail purposes. Who knew, really.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trans this is a fic about a trans person written by a trans person. I literally was writing about how I feel. So. Yeah.


End file.
